


Prove It

by shewearsglasses



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gwen Doesn't Die, Awesome Gwen, Awkward Crush, Bad Ending, Bad Flirting, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Dirty Jokes, Fluff, Flustered Peter, Fourth Wall? What Fourth Wall?/Breaking the Fourth Wall, Gwen Stacy is a BAMF, Implied Sexual Content, Kid Fic, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Neck Kissing, Peter Grows Up, Protective Harry, Sassy Peter, Spideypool - Freeform, Tacos, Team Dynamics, Trust Issues, semi-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1748843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewearsglasses/pseuds/shewearsglasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter meets Deadpool four times before anything sticks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prove It

**Author's Note:**

> This took quite a few hours to finish, and it still fucking sucks. I have no idea why I decided to write this, but whatever. Hope you like it!

Peter Parker was six or seven the first time he met Wade Wilson—or who he would come to know as Wade—at six, Peter only knew the mask and the identity. He’d been walking home from school when the shots rang out. He shouldn’t have been walking alone, but he knew the way, and his uncle had a late shift and he’d missed the bus, and frankly, at seven, Peter didn’t know better than to walk home alone. He thought he was being brave, mature, and grown-up like Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He thought they’d be proud of him.

He stared, shell-shocked as a big man with a ski-mask covering his face cursed and sprinted away from a fallen woman. There was red everywhere. He called out in fear, and that’s when ski-mask looked his way. The man plundered a step and looked around.

Peter was alone on the sidewalk, aside from the woman on the ground. The man looked around once more then drew the gun higher. Peter shrieked; his feet were frozen to the ground.

The man pulled the trigger, and Peter closed his eyes, biting his lip and expecting pain. Nothing came. The shot rang out, but it hit the brick building behind him. He flinched at the noise, and opened his eyes. The man was on the ground. A larger man wearing all red and black stood over him, “Don’t you know not to involve kids, you sick fuck?”

Peter flinched again, his aunt had taught him not to bad words like that. The man looked his way, and Peter tried not to be scared of the swords strapped to the new man’s back, or the guns on his hips, or the way ski-mask was bleeding on the ground.

The new man stepped closer to him, and had Peter not been frozen to the ground, he probably would’ve stepped back. “Hey,” the man said, “Name’s Deadpool. Don’t be scared’a me. I don’t hurt kids.”

Peter’s lip wobbled, and then he was crying. The man cursed and hurried closer. He pulled a packet of tissues seemingly out of nowhere. It would’ve been a good idea too, if said tissues weren’t coated in blood. Peter cried harder. “Whoa, whoa. Hey! Hey, kid,” The man—Deadpool—said, ducking down to his level, “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Ah, fuck. I hate when kids cry.”

He mumbled something, almost in a different accent, then said, “No, I’m not gonna shoot him. The fuck? I just said I don’t shoot kids. What?  Yeah, yeah, I said ‘hurt,’ same fucking difference.” Deadpool grabbed his shoulder, and smoothed his hair down, “Hey, shush, kid. What’s your name?”

Peter sniffled a little, quieting down. “Peter,” he said.

The man lifted his mouth so Peter could see his lips and the bottom of his nose, “My name’s Deadpool. I’m friendly, see!” He grinned, his lips were chapped around the edges but the smile seemed to quiet Peter further. There were scars covering every inch of skin Peter could see.

“Where’d you get those?” He said.

The man’s smile dimmed in brightness, but he answered truthfully, “I used to have a bad disease, but I got better! I’m fine, you’re fine. Now, let’s get you home, yeah?” Peter nodded slowly, and Deadpool grinned wider, “Come on, Petey! How far away do you live?”

“I don’t know…” He said, “Forest Hills.” Peter put his thumb in his mouth, suckling it in order to keep the tears at bay.

“How about we get a more firm address than that,” Deadpool said. “Fucking kids, this is why I’m a mercenary. I don’t need this shit,” he mumbled, and Peter ignored him. “What street?”

“Um…” Peter stuttered over his words, “Winter Garden Drive, I think?”

“That’s great!” Deadpool said, “What grade you in?” The man in red made quiet conversation with him as they walked, and eventually Peter opened up enough to allow his thumb to drop to his side.

When they reached the street, Peter pointed at his house, “There! There!” He said, “And that one’s MJ’s. She’s this little girl with red hair; did you know people could have red hair? Red’s a weird color.”

Deadpool laughed, “Hey! My suit’s red.”

Peter shrugged, “Still weird.”

He shook his head at the boy, and stopped in front of the white house Peter had pointed at, “Alright, kiddo. This is where I leave you.”

“Wait!” Peter said as the man turned to leave. “Are you a superhero like the ones in my comics?”

“Depends on which comics you’re reading, 'cause I ain’t no DC bitch.”

“Batman,” Peter said, grinning. “You’re like Batman!”

Deadpool laughed, clutching at his stomach.  He wiped an invisible tear from his mask, “Yeah,” he finally said. “I’m just like Batman.” He waved a hand over his shoulder as Peter ran inside.

When he asked his aunt for a Deadpool comic later, she had no idea what to say.

 

They met again barely two years later. Peter was on the bus home when a bomb exploded two cars up. The bus driver jammed the brakes, but the bus didn’t slow fast enough to avoid hitting the truck in front. They slammed to a halt, and the driver flew through the windshield.

Then, screaming.

The kids around Peter began crying and yelling. One kid in back pushed open the back door and then dozens of kids were flooding the streets. Peter tried to remain calm; he allowed Harry to grab his hand and followed behind his best friend as they darted into the streets.

Peter was only eight, so the chaos that suddenly surrounded him was too much. He began sobbing; Harry’s grip on his hand was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

The Avengers were fighting up ahead, and as keen as Peter normally would be to see his favorite heroes in action, he didn’t want to slow down. There was too much going on. Aliens covered the streets, and he watched in horror as several of his classmates were thrown into the skies above.

Harry stopped them behind a dumpster. They peaked around the corner, watching in horror as the fire spread. Peter quieted, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand.

“I’m gonna call my dad,” Harry said, pulling his hand back. He reached into his pocket and removed the cell phone his dad had given him ‘for emergencies. As he dialed, Peter slid down the brick wall, placing his head between his knees in an effort to calm down. His tears stopped, but the sobs still shook his body every few seconds.

Harry sat down next to him. “No answer,” he said. He dialed a different number, muttering something about his butler.

Peter heard footsteps at the entrance to the alleyway. Harry’s butler had picked up, and he was chatting away, explaining the situation. Peter, despite the fear that flooded his body, peaked around the edge of the dumpster. His fears were eased at the familiar site of a masked vigilante.

“Hey,” the man said, stepping forward, “Get outta here! It’s dangerous on the streets!”

A smile spread across Peter’s lips, and before Harry could stop him, he stepped forward, “Deadpool!”

The man tilted his head, “Have we met? I think I’d remember a snotty face like that. Then again, we are killed pretty often. Maybe death does something to the memory. _Hey, Death! That’s a babe we gotta call up._ Think she’d be down for a movie later? **She probably has better things to do than to see foolish movies with you.** Hey, I resent that!”

Peter grinned at him. “I’m Peter, remember?”

The man nodded slowly, “Sure. Whatever.”

Harry snapped the phone shut and walked up to the pair, “Are you an Avenger?” He said.

Peter nodded frantically, “He’s like Batman!”

Deadpool shifted, “Ah, yes. Peter. _He’s the kid with the DC-fetish!_ We should probably convert him to Marvel, ya know, for his heath. **I am almost positive that Marvel does not exist in this universe.** What! That’s crazy!” Deadpool was muttering to himself again, but it only seemed to bother Harry. “Hey kids, ya need a taxi home or something?”

Peter nodded. “Well, I hope you have money on you cause I ain’t buying,” Deadpool laughed.

Harry scowled, “My butler’s picking me up. We don’t need _your_ assistance.”

Peter nodded again, slower this time. “Are you gonna go save the day, Mr. Deadpool?”

“Listen, kid. I don’t care who the fuck you are, or how rich your daddy is. I’m trying to be nice, see? So, shut the fuck up.” Deadpool said to Harry then he turned to Peter and grinned, “Why of course, Petey! I’m the best fucking hero this city has ever seen! _That’s one way of putting it._ **A particularly inaccurate way of putting it.** ”

Peter ignored the way he talked to him, and nodded. “Sweet!”

Harry’s phone beeped, “Come on, Peter.” He tugged at Peter’s sleeve, “Antonio is here.”

“Oh okay,” Peter deflated a bit.

Deadpool held up a hand, “Hey, kid. Go kick some ass for me, yeah?” Peter slapped his hand, his grin returning brighter than ever.

“You too!”

Harry pulled him away, but the grin didn’t leave Peter’s face for the rest of the day. Peter didn’t see Deadpool again for another seven years.

 

“Hey kid,” Peter startled up, knocking his laptop out of his lap in surprise. Deadpool was on his windowsill, grinning like it wasn’t creepy that he’d somehow found out where Peter lived.

“What the hell? You scared the shit outta me!” Peter put a hand over his chest, trying to calm down his breathing.

Deadpool grinned, and slid into Peter’s room. He closed the window behind him, “Well, someone’s all grown up and using cuss words!”

“How do you even know where I live? Let alone remember me. Wait,” Peter shut his laptop, and glanced at him, narrowing his eyes. Did he know who he was? He’d only been calling himself ‘Spider-Man’ for about two months, but what if the mercenary had figured it out? “Why are you even here?”

Deadpool deposited himself in Peter’s desk chair and spun around, “Got bored. I walked you home, remember? ‘Course I know where you live! **He’s referring to the fact that that was nine years ago.** _Yeah, it’s a little creepy that you’re stalking some kid who’s considered jailbait!”_

“I have a friend coming over soon,” Peter said.

“A _girl_ friend?” Deadpool waggled his eyebrows, “A sexy friend?”

Peter sat up fully and pulled his glasses from the bridge of his nose. Rubbing at his forehead, he said, “Why are you _here_?”

“Aren’t I your favorite superhero?”

“You’re not even a hero,” Peter said through clenched teeth. “I’m fifteen. I’ve done some research.”

“Ouch,” he said, but the grin on his face grew.

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but he heard a knock at the door. He flinched, and jumped to his feet, pushing Deadpool back toward the window. “Get out,” he said. “Gwen’s here.”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh. Stop manhandling me! Or at least lower your hands a little,” Peter dropped his hands like he’d caught a disease. Deadpool laughed, and slid the window open again, “Call me, baby boy.”

“Not likely,” Peter said, slamming the window in his face.

It was only later, after Gwen had left, that Peter noticed the package on his desk. ‘Petey,’ it said, with poorly drawn hearts scribbled all over the front. Peter opened it, briefly worried that it contained a bomb. The note attached said he’d found it in his travels in another universe, whatever that meant. When Peter opened the package, he found a poorly drawn comic starring Deadpool.

Peter smiled, it was obviously drawn by Deadpool, himself, but he somehow found it adorable. He never threw it out.

 

 “Hey Spidey!” Peter heard someone call, but he didn’t look up. It wasn’t unusual for pedestrians to call out his name when they saw him swinging between buildings. He waved over his shoulder, but didn’t slow down. “Wait up!” The same voice said, “His name is Spidey, right? _I think it might be Spider-Man._ Yeah, I know that, dipshit. **Maybe he doesn’t answer to anything but his real first name**. We don’t know his real first name though. **We do in some universes.** Well, that doesn’t help me out right about now, does it? Shut the fuck up.”

He paused when he caught a grip on the nearest roof. What the hell? Who was that? He turned around and glanced down. He was about 49-stories up, but he could make out the red and black figure waving frantically from the ground. Of course it was him. He honestly couldn’t go more than few years without seeing that idiot.

Peter stilled, tapping his foot. Deadpool continued waving, but after a moment he disappeared. Literally disappeared. Peter’s eyes widened and he startled forward, glancing around looking for the man. Someone tapped his shoulder, and he leapt into the air, almost falling off the building in the process. Deadpool grinned at him, “Sup, Spidey.”

Peter sat on the roof ledge, “What the hell, Deadpool?”

Deadpool grinned, “It’s Wade actually.” He held out a hand, “We haven’t been formally introduced. Name’s Wade Wilson, AKA Merc with a Mouth, AKA Jack, AKA Wade T. Wilson,” Peter tuned him out at this point, but he just kept going, “AKA Mithras, AKA Johnny Silvini, AKA Thom Cruz, AKA Hulkpool, AKA Wildcard. And those are just the ones on Wikipedia! My special friends call me Ryan Reynolds.”

Peter stared at his outstretched hand, and made no move to take it, “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Nope!” Deadpool—Wade?—grinned. “My jaw does this weird click-y thing when I’m not talking. It’s like,” he paused and pointed at his jaw. “See?”

“No,” Peter said.

“Ya know, your ass looks really great when you’re swinging around. Like wow. Do you work out? Probably. I bet you do. Man, I wish I could watch _that_ ,” Wade cut off and appeared to drift off. Peter glanced behind him at the streets, maybe if he just moved slow enough, Wade wouldn’t follow him. “Look, I know you’re Peter Parker.”

Peter whipped back around to face him, “What?” He wished the stutter didn’t make him sound so young.

Wade shrugged, “You’re not exactly subtle when you swing home, I just followed you one night for funsies, and woop-dee-doo! It’s little Petey behind that glorious ass! Weird, right? Who’dathunk that little glasses dork would turn out so fucking hot?”

Peter was frozen, “Don’t tell anyone.” He’d meant to sound threatening, but it came out too feeble for that. It sounded more like he was begging; which he kind of was.

“Nah,” Wade waved a hand at him, and sat down beside him, “I won’t tell.”

Peter couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice, “But why? You don’t owe me anything.”

Wade shrugged again, “You’re pretty awesome dude, and why would you accept my friendship bracelet if I told the world your secret?” He reached into his belt and pulled out a small string bracelet. He handed it to Peter. It was black and red, and had little beads on it that spelled out ‘Spideypool.’

“What?” Peter said, tilting it sideways to make sure it wasn’t a trap.

“That’s our ship name!” Wade said, he nodded eagerly when Peter glanced up at him. “Look! See? I even made my own!” Wade presented his hand, lifting his costume at the wrist to show Peter the matching bracelet he donned. His was blue and red.

Peter decided against dignifying that with a response. Wade reached out and grabbed the bracelet back, and he didn’t protest. He didn’t even move when Wade tied the childish thing around his wrist. He turned his wrist around, eyeing it as if it offended him; which, frankly, it kinda did. “Do you want something from me?”

“Only your autograph,” Peter looked up when Wade moved. He was holding out a notebook and pen. Peter took them, but threw them from the building. Wade pouted, “Now that was just mean. And it’s littering! Which is against the law, you rebellious twink!”

Peter scowled, “Don’t call me that.”

“Shouldn’t you be past your rebellious phase anyway, baby boy? You’re almost legal.”

“I _am_ legal,” Peter said, inching away. He had no idea how to handle this situation. “I’m twenty-one.”

Wade grinned, “Awesome! So, you’re not even jailbait anymore!”

Peter stood, and pointed a finger at him like a he was scolding a child, “This is harassment.”

Wade pouted, and leaned forward. “Don’t point your finger at me like that! I bite.” He snapped his teeth at Peter’s finger. Peter jumped back, pulling his hands behind his back.

“Just leave me alone,” Peter said.

“No can do, sweetums. We gotta do a team-up, yeah? For old time’s sake? _Still not the right universe._ _Is there a universe where we’re getting some?_ **I highly doubt that there’s a universe that unrealistic.** ” Wade stood up, and moved toward Peter, but stilled when Peter began to back up. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I don’t really trust you,” Peter said.

“But I saved your life! Practically twice!”

“Once. And you did it by killing a guy. Why should I trust you?” Peter said, hands on his hips. He felt silly arguing this point with the mercenary.

Wade waved a hand, “Technicalities.” He glanced at Peter, and stepped closer, “See? I told you! He’s right, why should he trust us?” Peter blinked, this talking to himself thing was getting out of hand. “Cause you’ve known me your whole life,” Wade said, and for once in all the years Peter had known him, he sounded earnest. “And I’ve never once hurt you.”

“I barely know you.”

“We’ve met up four times! It’s practically fate!”

“Two of those incidents happened cause you stalked me down!” Peter said, throwing his hands up in the air. “It’s not fate!”

“Remember that time I walked you home? And that time I gave you a comic book?” Wade said, still grinning, “See? I’m nice!”

“Nice does not a trustworthy person make.”

Wade tilted his head, “Nice word play there, Yoda.”

“Shut up,” said Peter.

Wade stepped ever closer, and Peter noticed that he hadn’t once backed up in the past few minutes. Wade was a breath away from him, “I’m asking you to do a team-up, not proposing marriage.”

Peter eyed him, “Fine.” Wade fist pumped, nearly punching Peter in the face in the process, “But we’re taking this by ear. Don’t make me kill you.”

“You’re not that kinda guy,” Wade teased as Peter jumped off the roof.

 

Teaming up with Deadpool actually wasn’t as bad an idea as Peter originally expected. He was reckless, yes. He wasn’t exactly trustworthy, yes. But he was also loyal, and always had Peter’s back. He even took a few bullets for him.

A few months later, when they were taking a taco break on a roof, Peter realized he actually liked Wade. He’d grown on him like an annoying vine that starts out okay but ends up fucking covering the building in a mossy overload that is anything _but_ okay. Peter paused in eating his taco, that was a really shit metaphor.

“You ever think about how poorly written this fic is?” Wade asked out of the blue, “Like what’s with all the time jumps? Time jumps are for the weak.”

Peter ignored him as usual. As a kid, he’d looked up to Deadpool. At fifteen, he’d harbored a secret crush on the Merc. That comic book—which he had kept buried in the back of his closest—had haunted him for weeks. And here he was at twenty-two, actually liking the guy behind the mask.

He got home late that  night. His roommate, Gwen was still awake watching the news. She smiled when he came out from his bedroom, “Do you not know _how_ to use the front door? Or do you just really like the window?”

Peter flipped her off, ignoring her laughter as he entered the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal. “Hang out with Wade again?” Gwen called from the other room.

Peter grabbed his bowl and went to join her on the couch, she leaned her head on his shoulder, “Yeah,” he said. “We got tacos for dinner.”

“Good, so I don’t have to worry about the amazing Spider-Man starving out there on the cold, lonely streets!” Gwen said.

Peter glanced at her, “You sound suspiciously like Aunt May.”

“That’s fine with me,” she said. “Aunt May is a bad ass.”

Peter laughed, but didn’t dignify her with a response. He grabbed the remote control from her lap and switched to ‘Friends,’ Gwen didn’t protest. “So when d’you think Wade’s gonna ask me for your hand in marriage?” She asked at the first commercial.

Peter choked on his mouthful of cereal, “What?” He bit out, but it came out garbled and shrill. Gwen sat up and reached for her water bottle. After swallowing the water, Peter breathed in and said, “What?” It was no less shrill.

Gwen grinned, shifting to sit cross-legged facing him. She rubbed at her nose, “Ya know, when’s your boyfriend gonna pop the question?”

“He’s not my,” Peter stopped when he realized how high-pitched his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and tried again, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Right, so should I find your shrill voice more realistic? Or your,” she began to imitate him, “your ‘deep manly voice.’” Peter glared at her much to her utter amusement.

“I’m going to bed,” Peter said.

“Use protection!” Gwen called after him before she dissolved into laughter.

 

Peter dwelled on what Gwen had said for the rest of the night. He honestly lost sleep over it. It wasn’t that she said anything specific either, it was that she planted the idea of Wade genuinely liking him into his head. And that was all he could think about.

Sure, Wade flirted with him almost constantly. But wasn’t that just his personality?

The problem was that Peter couldn’t decide whether he liked the thought or not. Did he? He did like Wade, but did he _like_ _like_ him? Oh God, was he in third grade again? He might as well slip a note in Wade’s locker asking whether he liked him or not.

He felt air on his face, and rolled over to close the window. A hand was reaching in. He shrieked and jumped onto the ceiling. Loud, familiar laughter calmed his nerves. “Geez, for a superhero, you’d think you’d do more than scream like a girl,” Wade said as he came in through the window.

Peter’s bedroom door slammed open and Gwen flipped on the lights. Her hair was matted to the left side of her face, and she held a bat, ready to swing. “What? What happened?”

Wade’s laughter only increased in volume, and Peter let himself fall back into his bed, “Nothing, Gwen. Go back to bed.” He could feel his face heating up.

“Your non-super-powered roommate has better street skills than you do,” Wade laughed. Gwen grinned, taking it as a compliment.

“Well, if you don’t need my help here,” she said, turning off the lights and closing the door, but not without a wink at Peter. His flush darkened.

Peter grabbed his glasses off his bedside table, “She’s just giddy you didn’t make a sexist remark.”

“Why would I?” Wade asked, standing up and looming over Peter’s bed. He was dressed in his Deadpool costume, but his mask was off and in his hand. The white of his scars almost glowed in the moonlight. “Gwen’s a badass.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, serious déjà vu. “Why are you even here?” Whoa, now _that_ was déjà vu. “Why are you _always_ creeping in my window?”

Wade shrugged, “I like windows.”

“That doesn’t answer my first question.”

“Got bored, and thought hey, why don’t I go hang out with Petey? He’s probably still up. We should play video games, or watch movies or something.” Wade said, grinning at him, and sitting in his desk chair.

Peter said, “It’s 2:40am. Go home, Wade.”

“Or we could do some other _nightly_ activities?” Peter hoped the darkness hid his blush.

He shook his head a little too aggressively, “Go home.” He thought of what Gwen had mentioned earlier, and shook his head again. “You probably don’t even mean that.” He’d meant to mumble it quiet enough that Wade didn’t hear him, but Wade perked up in his seat.

“What was that, Spidey?”

“Nothing,” Peter said quickly.

“No, it was something,” Wade said, he leaned forward. “You think I don’t mean to flirt with you?” His face was serious, and it scared Peter. Wade was never serious.

Peter stared at him, how could he respond to make what he’d said into a joke? He’d barely had time to give thought to the possibility of liking Wade like this.

“Peter,” Wade said. Peter swallowed, Wade never used his real name. “I always mean it. You really think I don’t? You think I wouldn’t hop into bed with you so fast you got whiplash? You really think I don’t want you screaming my name and—”

“Stop,” Peter said, causing Wade’s grin to return. “Don’t,” Wade could definitely see his flush, and if not, he could probably tell how flustered Peter was from the sheer volume of his voice. “Gwen’s sleeping a wall over, and our walls are not exactly thin.”

Wade got up and crawled onto the bed, crowding Peter against the wall. He sucked in a gasp of air, “All the more reason to be loud.” Wade said, “Girl likes a show.”

Peter shrieked as Wade cupped his ass through his briefs, “Wade!” He stuttered, and pressed his hands into the bigger man’s chest to hold him at bay. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

Wade grinned, pressing his lips to Peter’s throat. Peter allowed him to press delicate kisses to every inch of skin that Wade could reach. He paused at his shoulder, “You really think I don’t mean it?”

“Well,” Peter was cut off by a nip at his skin, he shrieked. “Cut it out, Wade.”

“If I have to prove this to you all night, I will.” He grinned against Peter’s skin, “If I have to prove this to you every night, for the rest of my life I will. And you know,” he paused to kiss the corner of Peter’s mouth. Peter let out a shaky breath, “I’m gonna live forever.”

Peter sneered, “That was cheesy.”

“I’m trying to say I’m gonna fuck you like a bazillion million times, that better?”

Peter was frozen, and could do nothing but nod helplessly as Wade’s lustful gaze drank him in. He opened his mouth after what felt like a lifetime, but Wade cut him off with a bruising kiss.

There was a knock at the door, and Peter shimmied his way out from under Wade, backing against the opposite corner of the room. “Come in!” His voice betrayed him by sounding as shrill as ever.

Gwen laughed as she opened the door to find their positions switched, with Peter by the window and Wade on the bed grinning. She tossed a box to Wade, who let out a gleeful yelp, “Oh, Gwen, you beautiful sexy minx! I could kiss you!”

She smirked, “Have fun, you two.” She closed the door, leaving Peter alone and helpless, with Wade and a box full of condoms.

“Oh,” Wade grinned over at Peter, who shrank further into the wall, “We will.”


End file.
